Whisper Of Silence That Draws Us Close
by fallingangelsandstars
Summary: So now Dean and Sam sit, facing each other, eyes drinking in the sight of the only constant in a world blurred with changing shapes and fading existences, identities that survived the week they stayed in the town then were cast aside, abandoned, stripped away.


**A/N: Enjoy!**

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Dean and Sam sit, separated by a barrier. They can't see it, but they know it's there. It's palpable, real, more solid than either of them realise.

Dean was angry at first, rage rushing through his veins and setting him on fire, his helplessness only eating away at him, stone being carved and shaped and moulded. He threw himself against it, again and again, trying to break through, to get to Sam. He needs him. Needs him more than the empty air that swallows every sound, useless and incapable.

Sam would watch him helplessly, scream Dean's name, call out for him until his throat was raw and aching, voice hoarse and shaky and broken. And distance wore them down, tearing them apart, breaking them until they were empty, hollow shells that echo faintly with the memory of each other.

So now Dean and Sam sit, facing each other, eyes drinking in the sight of the only constant in a world blurred with changing shapes and fading existences, identities that survived the week they stayed in the town then were cast aside, abandoned, stripped away.

It's been too long. The silence swims and shivers in its solitude. It's pressing down on Dean. He asks for release. He doesn't know how to bear it any longer.

He's lonely.

Dean sees Lisa. Her dark hair illuminates her smile, and he walks towards her, needing someone to support him, hold him, stop him from crumbling.

Sam watches from his side of the barrier, heart aching, loneliness sweeping through him, cold and dark. But his heart rings with sadness and hope and joy, because Dean's been given a chance. He can go on, continue. And it hurts Sam and heals him, because he could see the cracks in his brother, the parts where Dean couldn't cope, where he needed solace.

Dean and Lisa live together. Not married, maybe never will be. She knows part of Dean, the most important part will always belong to Dean. But to Lisa, Sam is dead. She doesn't know he's on the other side, watching over them.

She doesn't know the barrier exists. She walked towards it once, deterred suddenly, forgot why she was heading in that direction. Some pretence sprung into her mind, choking and festering like a weed, a reason to turn around and walk away.

Sam watches as Lisa walks towards him, knows she won't ever see him, won't ever get close enough to see him. He thinks there's an irony in that. He lives through Dean. And Dean won't let her get close enough to see that part of him that Sam shares, that belongs to Sam, that's only ever belonged to Sam.

And she knows that. And Sam knows that. And Dean knows that as well.

Sam is the only one who ever saw Dean cry.

It saddens Sam to see Dean so closed off, living a half life. But he knows it was more than he could ever have given him. At least this way, Dean is afforded some small measure of peace, of normality.

And sometimes, on the days where the sun shines especially bright, Dean will smile, a small, quiet smile, one that glows with happiness. And somewhere, Sam will smile the same smile, only tinged with sadness, a grief that seems to grow, no matter how much he tries to push it down, suppress it, lock it down.

Sam should have known that Dean needed him.

It started in May, or maybe July. Dean's not sure. All he knows is that one day, he was chopping firewood, the steady, mindless work keeping his mind from darting off, scattering, holding himself together and occupied.

The sun was setting, bathing him in its golden glow, soft, warm and inviting. He stopped to watch the last, flickering rays, basking in their warmth, the echo of the day, the last goodbye.

He turned to the barrier, off in the distance. Let himself walk, taking his time. He knew whichever direction he took would take him to Sam. His heart was a compass, and it had only ever pointed one way.

Sam let the wind sweep over him, the gentle breeze wiping away the flecks of sweat and cooling him down. His skin was thrumming in anticipation. He knew Dean was coming. It was like a hum, a whisper in the air.

He was still sitting there, so many days later, cross-legged in the dry, yellow grass that encompassed his side of the barrier.

Finally, Dean was coming back. And Sam let loose a cry of joy, a thanks to the heavens that was more genuine than prayer. He stood up, couldn't help but run to the edge of the barrier, and let the hope he'd kept shut off in his chest spring free, grow and soar boundlessly.

It felt like coming home. It felt like everything Dean had been missing, everything he'd wanted. It had been there with Lisa, but it was disjointed, didn't fit like this did. Had only been a faint outline compared to this feeling.

Sam was there, the smile on his face blinding and carefree. It sent a warm rush through Dean, a wordless excitement that only grew as he approached Sam, who was waiting for him as he had when they were children, and Dean would disappear to go to school.

Gazes resting on the angles of jaws, flat panes of stomachs, sweeping lashes covering brilliant eyes that shine wistfully in the moonlight.

They're separated by a barrier, but suddenly, it doesn't seem so permanent anymore.

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**Secondary A/N: Reviews, favourites and follows are always welcome! **

**Tell me if you liked it. One word is good enough for me :D**


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